


am i dancing sexy yet (i can't wait to make your body my own)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: The thing is. People always assume it’s Yuuri who’s the submissive one.They’re completely wrong, all of them.“Victor,” Yuuri murmurs. “What did you do, nights before a big competition? You never got nervous energy you couldn’t work off?”“Well,” Victor says like he’s considering. “To tell you the truth, times like that, I would mostly jerk off," and that's enough to give Yuuri some ideas.





	

The thing is. People always assume it’s Yuuri who’s the submissive one.

They’re completely wrong, all of them.

“Victor,” Yuuri murmurs. Feels Victor brush his lips against the nape of Yuuri’s neck.

“Hmmm?”

“What did you do, nights before a big competition? You never got nervous energy you couldn’t work off?”

“Well,” Victor says like he’s considering. “To tell you the truth, times like that, I would mostly jerk off.”

“Huh,” Yuuri says, and he doesn’t stutter or blush the way he knows he would have a year or even six months ago. Just presses back a little closer against Victor, feels him snuggle in until he’s a long line of warmth down Yuuri’s spine, knees tucked up behind the backs of Yuuri’s thighs. It’s the night before the Grand Prix finals; Yuuri’s defending his gold, not quite as nervous as he might have been, all things considered. He’s practiced until every jump lands just right and then just a little more, sweated in the hotel sauna and taken a long bath and now they’re curled up together in the slightly-too-small hotel bed, almost but not quite ready for sleep. Victor’s breath is warm on his throat. “What, you didn’t go out and find a partner for the night? Beautiful Victor Nikiforov?”

“Not really,” Victor says easily, “not… before competitions, it’s better to keep your energy for yourself. Focus it inwards.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, teasing, “so you’re saying we shouldn’t…” and Victor pinches the skin on his hip.

“Idiot,” he murmurs fondly, “that’s not what I’m saying at all,” and of course it’s not, Yuuri knows the difference between a partner for the night and the kind of relationship he and Victor have, these days, but it’s still giving him ideas.

“I don’t know,” he says. Rolls over to face Victor, leans in for a kiss and pulls away before Victor can deepen it. “Perhaps it’s a good suggestion.”

“Oh,” Victor drawls, languid and lazy. Lies back in the pillows and gives Yuuri a look that’s all heavy-lidded seduction, blue eyes darkening as his pupils blow huge. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, heart beating faster. Pushes himself up to sitting, pulls his shirt slowly up and over his head, flings it away into the contained mess of their hotel room. “No touching, Nikiforov. All you have to do is watch.”

“You know how I love to do that,” Victor sighs, and that’s it, it’s on. Yuuri shifts up onto his knees, takes himself in hand. He’s not fully hard but he’s getting there fast with how Victor is looking at him, the blush spreading high across his cheekbones. Yuuri strokes himself, slow. Sighs softly under his breath, squeezes his fingers around his dick, slides his other hand down his bare chest.

“I’m doing this just for you, Victor,” he says, low and dark and serious. “When I skate tomorrow, I’ll be doing that just for you too. Every performance, you know it’s for your sake alone.” He’s still touching himself, a slow drag of his fingers up and down the shaft of his dick, and Victor licks his lips, moans quietly. Yuuri’s really hard now, so hard it almost hurts, and he squeezes, feels beads of pre-come well up and slide wet and slick down over his fingertips. _Show me your eros_ , Victor had said, and Yuuri had tried to perform like a pork cutlet bowl, like a beautiful woman, like a kid who didn’t understand what seduction was. He’s not that kid now. He’s just _Victor’s_ , and watching Victor watching him, it makes Yuuri’s heart pulse in his throat.

Victor reaches for him and Yuuri grabs him by the wrist, pushes his hand up above his head. Does the same with Victor’s other hand for good measure.

“No _touching,_ I said,” he tells Victor. Squeezes for emphasis, just hard enough to feel the delicate bones in Victor's wrists. It has Victor gasping, mouth falling softly open over his teeth, and Yuuri feels too powerful for words. “Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Me and only me.” Releases Victor’s hands, watches in satisfaction as Victor settles obediently back into the pillow. He’s all elegant lines, delicate cheekbones, a long sweep of blonde lashes, and Yuuri loves him so much it hurts.

It’s just. He also wants to make Victor ache for him. Understands, now, how Victor _had_ ached for him, for months and months. Ached and wondered why Yuuri was being so weird, so distant, why he’d burned hot and then cold as ice. It makes Yuuri blush with remembered embarrassment just thinking about it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Victor murmurs, “ _please_ , Yuuri,” and Yuuri smiles at him, arches his back in a flagrant tease.

“It feels good,” he says, “your eyes on me, it feels _good_ , Victor,” and it does, _oh_ it does, he’s filled with the kind of confidence he’d once have only found after way too much booze. Fizzing in his veins like champagne bubbles, and he’s breathless, blood pounding in his ears. It's the same feeling he gets during performances, the thrill of knowing Victor is watching, knowing Victor is enthralled. _I want the whole world to hate me for taking you_ , he thinks, _having you to myself, you’re mine, you’re_ _mine_ , and locks his gaze with Victor, tries to express it all through his body from his shoulders down his spine, his fingertips, the taut muscle of his thighs. Bites his lip, and smiles, wicked, and Victor looks taken _apart_. He’s sweating a little, his bare chest gleaming with it, and his mouth is bitten red, eyes huge and dark and wanting.

“You put this in your skating,” Victor whispers, “you-” and Yuuri nods. Strokes his fingertips light over Victor’s hipbone, squeezes his dick and feels it pulse in his hand. He’s close, he’s so close, he could do this for hours if it meant Victor would keep looking at him the way he’s looking at him. He has no idea how the whole world doesn’t see this in every line of his body, as soon as he steps onto the ice.

“Everything,” he says, “it’s for you,” and Victor gasps again, arches up a little like he wants nothing more than for Yuuri to touch him already.

Yuuri doesn’t; it’s teasing and it’s mean but he knows now how Victor likes him to be mean, sometimes. Likes him to be forceful, and now that he’s figured that out, settled into himself and his own confidence, it’s so much _fun_ he can’t resist.

“You want to see me come?” he asks, and Victor closes his eyes, squeezes them shut tight and then opens them again, gaze so full of longing that Yuuri can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” he breathes, “you do, huh,” and twists his wrist, rubs his thumb just over the underside of his head where he’s most sensitive. Gasps, and does it again, and Victor’s clenching his hands into fists, grabbing the headboard of the bed and holding on tight like it’s the only thing stopping him from reaching for Yuuri. “So _obedient_ ,” Yuuri tells him fondly, and that’s it, it’s all of a sudden too much to resist, he’s got Victor Nikiforov spread out and watching him like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world and he’s so _lucky_ , god. The blood roars in his ears and he comes hard, jolting forward, getting it messy all over his own chest and his fingers and Victor’s thighs, his hips, his groin.

Yuuri’s thighs are burning a little with the way he’s kneeling, now, _seiza_ position held too long, but he doesn’t move, just reaches for Victor’s dick. His fingers are slickly wet with his own come and it only takes a couple of strokes before Victor is crying out, lifting his hips up into Yuuri’s touch, spilling messy all over Yuuri’s fist. He shuts his eyes when he comes, breathes hard, chest rising and falling, and his fine blond hair is stuck damp and sweaty to his forehead, and Yuuri thinks, soft and happy, _I am the luckiest person in the world_.

“Jeez, Yuuri,” Victor manages after a couple of minutes. Lets go of the headboard, flings one arm over his face so that it’s covering his eyes. “When I said ‘jerk off’ I didn’t mean-”

“Oh,” Yuuri says sweetly, “was that too much energy focused outward for a night like this, coach?” and Victor groans, reaches for him, tugs him down to lie next to him.

“You’re a jerk,” he says, not moving his arm. “How did I not know how much of a jerk you are, Yuuri Katsuki,” and Yuuri just laughs, settles in against Victor’s side, presses his face into the crook of Victor’s neck. He smells like sweat and sex over soap-clean skin and it’s wonderful, Yuuri never wants to move, he’s so content.

“You love me,” he murmurs. Brushes a kiss to Victor’s throat, and Victor pulls his arm away, blinks wide-eyed and ice-blue at Yuuri.

“Hmm,” he says. “Well. I suppose I do.” Reaches for Yuuri, tugs him in closer until Yuuri’s head is resting in the hollow of Victor’s shoulder, half-draped across Victor’s chest. Yuuri flings one leg up over Victor’s hips, ignoring the way they're sticky against each other. Traces his fingertips in slow swirling patterns over Victor’s skin, watches how the lamplight glints off his wedding band.

“I’m going to put this in my performance,” he says, sleepy, “I’m going to use it,” and feels Victor kiss his hair.

“I know, darling,” he agrees. Yawns loudly. “Ugh, we’re going to have to take another bath, you got us so messy.”

“In a minute,” Yuuri slurs, sleep-heavy and exhausted, “let’s just…” and his eyes drift closed, open again, closed. Victor is very warm, and Yuuri is very relaxed, boneless and content, and tomorrow, he’s going to win another gold. _The golden couple of figure skating_ , they’re calling them now. The Katsuki-Nikiforovs, stacking up medals between them, and Yuuri’s not gonna quit until he’s matched Victor’s five Grand Prix golds.

They don’t take another bath. He does win another gold.

“You were skating for me, weren’t you,” Victor says at the kiss-and-cry as they're waiting for the score, blandly professional like he might be talking to anyone right now if it wasn't for the affection in his eyes, and Yuuri smiles at him, secret and fond and breathlessly happy.

“Always,” he says, “always,” and yeah, he’s been performing for Victor all along.

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am in ice skating hell
> 
> i am [on tumblr](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/), if you enjoyed this go ahead and [like/reblog](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/post/154265166166/am-i-dancing-sexy-yet-i-cant-wait-to-make-your) if you want


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